Carnage
by A Gentleman Scientist
Summary: War is hell.


The last thing Johnson remembered was the NCO shouting "GET DOWN, SCREAMING MIMI!", and then that God-awful sound that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

When he came to, most of his squad was dead or dying. His NCO was writhing on the ground, on fire, and several of his squad mates had been eradicated by the incendiary shells, the smell of charred flesh hung heavy in the air.

Johnson could hear a faint voice coming from the direction of his NCO; he looked up and realized it was the radio, "All forces in sector Bravo-5 retreat to base, I repeat, retreat, Nebelwerfers have got a bead on you."

The lone survivor stood up and grabbed his M1 Garand that was lying nearby, he looked around at the carnage; two squads had been wiped out by the Nebelwerfer strike. X-Ray squad was completely gone, and he was the sole surviving member of Zulu squad.

He made sure his rifle was loaded, and then got an idea. He looked over to where one of his squad mates, Private Kefker, lies. He walked over to the badly burnt body and began searching; he eventually found what he was looking for, his teammate's BAR. He scavenged through his comrade's body, grimacing while he did, and grabbed a few magazines of ammo.

He began the long run back to base, he was in the middle of enemy territory, his squad and their companion squad had been sent in to reconnoiter a German outpost that stored fuel. They had encountered and engaged a Grenadier squad at half strength, an easy battle. As they were scavenging supplies from the fallen enemy group, that horrible sound started.

By the time he had finally made it back to base, he was completely out of breath. An Officer approached him as he walked to the HQ. "Johnson, where is the rest of Zulu and X-Ray?", asked the Officer.

"Dead Sir, chewed up by Screamin' Mimis.", replied the grim survivor.

"I'm sorry for the loss, I'll requisition some replacements, and we've got a new assignment for you, so rest up while you can. You move out with a strike team at 0700." The Officer said.

Johnson headed towards the barracks, where his bunk was. On his way there, he saw what the Nebels were capable of. Men were being transported to various triage centers, he saw one unlucky bastard with a missing arm and a charred face, and another almost completely wrapped in bandages, groaning in pain.

He walked into the barracks, took off his boots, set down his BAR beside his bunk, and then climbed into the small bed and almost immediately drifted off.

The horrifying sound was deafening, that awful mechanical scream, and then the very real screams of men burning to death, being showered in burning chemicals and shrapnel. The massacre seemed unending, there was always another barrage right after the next, and everyone around Johnson seemed to either die in an explosion or scream as they caught on fire. The entire area was bathed in flames, and the horrible screams of the Nebelwerfers continued, Johnson looked up to see a shell flying right towards him, he braced for impact.

He woke up in a cold sweat, the noise from the dream still echoing in his mind. He sat up in his bunk as a group of five riflemen walked into the empty barracks.

"You Johnson?" asked one of the soldiers.

"Yeah, you the replacements?" asked Johnson in response.

"Yeah, come on, get your gear and follow us, it's almost time to leave." With that, the group walked out of the barracks.

Johnson slid out of bed, and put on his boots and grabbed his BAR. He walked out of the barracks, and into the morning sunlight. He approached the group he had talked to, who were huddled around a table along with a squad of rangers.

"Alright, so here's the deal," said one of the Rangers as Johnson walked up to the group, a map of their current position laid out on the table.

"We're here," said the ranger as he pointed to their base's location on the map, "Scouts indicate that the Krauts have Nebelwerfers set up here." He continued as he pointed to a hillside not too far from where Zulu and X-Ray had been cut down.

"They've got an entire battery on that hill, and they cover this area," said the lead Ranger as he drew a circle with his finger on the map.

Another Ranger walked up to the table, carrying a manila folder. "Intel reports that the battery is heavily guarded. The battery is in the middle of a village, so there's a lot of potential for field defenses. HMG teams holed up in buildings, mortars, and heavy infantry protection, the works."

Johnson was worried by the small strike team. "So how are we, two squads, going to take on a fortified village filled with Jerry?"

"Well, our loving allies, the Brits, have hooked us up with some 25 pounder support. They have walking barrages ready to soften up the village. We need to take out that battery, if we don't, that's a large swath of land deemed impassable. Alright, when we get into position, we'll call in the barrages. Move out."

With that, the replenished Zulu squad and the Ranger squad moved out and started the journey to the town, deemed Nebel Village.

As they arrived at the rendezvous point, the Ranger squad leader stopped them and ordered them to stop and take cover behind a low stone wall separating two fields. The group could see the village, it was made up of several townhouses and a town hall, along with some hovels located on the outskirts. One of the Rangers pulled out a pair of binoculars and took a look at the village, not too far off, but partially obscured by a light morning mist.

"How's it look, Stuart?" asked the lead Ranger.

"Not good. I can see around five or six Nebels, and at least three of the townhouses have machinegun teams, at least that I can see. There's also some light infantry, looks like grenadiers. Alright Sarge, call in the artillery."

The Sergeant pulled his portable radio set off his back, set it down, and fiddled with it for a few seconds. He then picked up the transmitter and started speaking coordinates.

Several booms could be heard far off.

Hans was huddled around the fire with several other Grenadiers. He was rubbing his hands and trying to warm up, European mornings were so damn cold this time of year, he thought.

"Do you think ze Americans are going to attack us?" asked one of his squad-mates, Gunter.

"Nein, we are much too heavily defended, even their armor cannot stand up to our Paks. I say we'll be back at base celebrating our victory within ze week," replied an officer who was also trying to stay warm.

Several distant and faint booms were heard.

"You don't think…" asked Hans, leaving the question hanging, no one wanting to acknowledge what the sound could be.

"No, there is no way they could mana-" Gunter was cut off as a thunderous explosion erupted at the edge of town, causing several buildings to fall, the explosion's noise caused everyone's ears to ring, dirt and debris were sent flying, the sound of a rain of debris followed the explosion.

"GET DOWN! ARTILLERY!" Was what the officer managed to get out before another explosion caused the center of the town to explode violently. Hans and the rest of the grenadiers were sent flying, Hans tried to get up, but began screaming when he looked down and realized his legs had been rendered useless by shrapnel.

Hans began screaming for help; the whistle of an artillery shell sailing through the air could be heard. The young German began pleading with God to help him. The round struck the ground directly in front of Hans, and the last thing the Grenadier did before the shell ended his life was wish he was back at home.


End file.
